From Behind Closed Doors
by Hysteric Polaris
Summary: [ post X1 pre X2 ] Although one can't live in the past, one can die with regrets. And I've known my share of regrets. Those of which may have made me stronger, but ultimately destroyed me from the inside out. R&R KurtYuriko


From Behind Closed Doors; a Lady Deathstrike X2 Prequel  
  
~GamerGirl  
  
PG, 1 chapter, X-Men: the Movie  
  
Disclaimers apply.  
  
A/N: I recently read the Nightcrawler X2 comic book prequel and thought this would be a nice idea since not much was done with her. I was up till 3am writing it, so hope you enjoy. Please note that I have no idea who Yuriko's family is or what her relationship with them is like. I usually make it up as I go along. And just pretend she's speaking Japanese with her family. I imagine she would, and I would've written it that way, but I don't know Japanese.  
  
Sorry for the long note; R&R.  
  
~~~  
  
You know that one part of your mind that controls involuntary thoughts and actions? The one that never forgets a thing, but you can never seem to access it? The medulla, I believe they call it. Upon experiencing death, you gain full access to it. And looking back on my life, the things I've done or could've done; seeing the misfortunes that have befallen me and those closest to me, have all led me to one conclusion.  
  
I must be the toughest person in the world.  
  
No pun intended.  
  
I am mutant #X110 aka Deathstrike; Japanese enhanced super agent that used to be assigned to protect respected American government officials. Unfortunately, the President had begun associating with a man named Stryker. William Stryker is responsible for everything currently anti-mutant. His life was spent plotting to cleanse our society of mutants. And I became his pawn. Unwillingly, yes. But I still feel that with all my experience, that I should've been able to stop him. I should've been capable of resisting him. I could've stopped him if I'd only known..  
  
Ah, but although one can't live in the past, one can die with regrets. And I've known my share of regrets. Those of which may have made me stronger, but ultimately destroyed me from the inside out. Maybe that's why I gave in, why I couldn't fight Stryker's inevitable influence...  
  
~  
  
"Yuriko?" I slid my leather jacket onto my shoulders and began to button up the front of it. I didn't want to listen. Goodbyes had never been my strongest suit. And my gut instincts told me this was the final and most difficult one. After all, work was getting serious and more perilous by the day. "Please answer me, Yuriko. Please, at least say goodbye, that you love us, that you'll miss us," she pleaded. "We all do and will. We know you feel the same, but could you at least let us know? Sometimes words are-"  
  
"Why? You know, you admitted, and that should be enough. I should not have to degrade myself for my family." I tied the matching leather belt around my waist and approached a mirror. My family followed, close behind.  
  
"It's not degrading to show emotion! Wear a smile for us, let us know you're still there, not just the silent soldier of an agent you've become!!"  
  
"You know I'm here. You know I show emotion. I should not have to remind you." I began to flatten my hair. No less than perfection. My hair had to be straight, tight, and flawless; not a hair out of place before I left. Presentation was half the job.  
  
"Fine. We won't pressure you any further. But one day, you're going to regret this. You'll be out on some street, dying because of a failed day at work, and you'll regret all the times you neglected to tell your loved ones you cared. Come along, children." Mother then left the room, holding the hands of my two younger siblings. I was slightly grateful that my family even cared. I was a mutant, after all. And what with all the mutant protesting and the recent suggestion to create a mutant registration act.. The way I see it, I'm the only hope for these government officials. If they want to pass those foolish laws, they can say goodbye to their last wall of protection against terrorism.  
  
However, the mutant protesting did affect me in one way. On one of their recent storms here in Japan, they killed my father. After all, the X-gene is a male trait and because I'm not exactly infamous here, I guess I was just lucky they didn't do more and that I wasn't disowned for all the misfortune and dishonor I brought upon my family for existing.  
  
Still, that only proves my luck. I'll admit I was a bit shaken by my father's horrid manner of passing, but in my line of work, you must learn to be unflinching in such situations. You must be vigilant and in control. Keeping your cool and giving every assignment your all are the keys to success; as well as giving a good presentation and looking good while doing so.  
  
Speaking of which, I finished my work on my hair and headed out. Usually, I wouldn't be here in Japan with my family. But I was on a very brief vacation and decided to pay them a visit. Nice of me, I assumed, but judging by the hostility and pain in their voices, they were hoping I would stay and would change. But I can't change now. I've aimed for the achievement of perfection in my line of work and I must continue to do so to the best of my ability.  
  
At least they got to see me once more.  
  
Something in my mind soon began to buzz. I felt it explode with emotion, causing me to literally stop in my tracks and flinch at its presence. 'Goodbye mother,' it echoed within me, 'Goodbye sisters; rest in peace, father; I shall dearly miss you all.'  
  
~  
  
On the plane ride that would return me to the Americas, I sat quietly and perfectly. Hands resting upon one another in my lap, head directed toward the front of the plane's general direction, legs neatly crossed. I was focusing on nothing in particular. Just.. being there. I had perfected the technique long ago and found it quite relaxing.  
  
I don't know why the sudden burst of emotion had swelled within me as I was leaving my home. I guess even pented feelings need to escape every once in a while. I'm just lucky that I had retained some self-control in not speaking my thoughts. My thoughts and feelings are my burden alone, and no one else's to know.  
  
"And what would you like to order for dinner ma'am?" a stewardess asked me, wheeling a cart by my seat. I immediately began to remember how much I weighed and decided to start another diet. Plus, who eats this late and lives to maintain their current weight? It all turns to fat by this hour or later.  
  
"No thank you." I replied, unmoving. My position hadn't changed in the slightest. I hadn't even turned to address her. Just, no thank you, so she rolled away with her trays and cart, asking the passengers behind me if they were interested in a nice, warm airline meal.  
  
I was always concerned about my weight. People in my line of work had to be slender. Especially me. I was a blackbelt, master of the martial arts. You can't be agile nor move very quickly when you have the atomic mass of a cow.  
  
If there's one other thing I take pride in, it's obviously my complexion. I may appear pale, but you'd never find a single mark on my body. No zits, no scars, no wounds, all thanks to one of my brilliant mutant abilities. The power of regeneration is very unique and very useful. Some may not believe it, but I'm much older than I let on; not in my 50's, mind you. That would certainly leave my younger siblings' births unexplainable. But it just puzzles me sometimes and makes me really question what the extent of my healing powers may be. Will I live forever? Is there a point when my body will just give up healing? And there were certainly unknown factors about being a mutant that may prove to be important ones in the matter. Like, at a certain age, do I lose my abilities? Do they worsen or only get keener as I age?  
  
~  
  
"Pleased to meet you Miss Oyama," the President said as he shook my hand. I acted as if this were just another day for me. He was just another client that would provide more challenge in honing my skills further.  
  
"Mr. President," I replied, bowing slightly. Old habit; darn Japanese tradition..  
  
"The President needs to address some fellow officials on the status of the mutant threat over the next few days," I remained idle at the unintentionally imposed insult, they probably didn't know I was a mutant offhand, but there was no way I was going to tell them, "and you are obligated to act as his bodyguard. Your reputation precedes you." The suit beside the President must've been the man who chose to hire me. I had heard that this would prove quite a challenge and that the pay, as this job would be for the President, would certainly not be lacking. I replied to him by nodding.  
  
"Where and when shall I be stationed?" I inquired curiously, yet firmly. As he informed me, I mentally memorized the briefing. "It shall be my pleasure working with you and I shall fulfill my duties to the best of my ability. You shall not be disappointed."  
  
I spent the next few days on the right arm of the President as he let everyone know just what was going on. Of course, I couldn't agree with all of his facts, but my American knowledge did sometimes intertwine with my Japanese knowledge. American mutant facts and estimates were far different than those of the Japanese, and it's just very difficult to keep every fact straightened out and organized in my overly-cluttered cranium.  
  
Having Japanese heritage, it's only natural to know so much and be trained in so many fields. We are, after all, told what we will be in life rather than asked what we would like to be, then pushed to our limits. I suppose that was the part of my upbringing that made me as tough and diligent as I am today.  
  
"Miss Oyama," the President addressed me, "This is Mr. Stryker." I shook the foreigner's hand and felt a tinge of haste in his grip. I looked up into his eyes and saw a bizarre lust. Not a lust for me, rather, but one for something more. Maybe power? I just couldn't read him..  
  
"Charmed, I'm sure," I greeted Stryker sarcastically.  
  
"Likewise," he replied with a snake-like tone.  
  
"Yes, Miss Oyama is an agent, she's serving as my bodyguard for what, one more day now?" I nodded in reply. "Very reliable, I can assure you. Wasn't disappointed in the slightest. May have to refer her or hire her again in the future. Her reputation couldn't be any more accurate. Very reliable-" The President's rambling was cut off by Stryker's.  
  
"If I may, Mr. President," Stryker interrupted. His voice had a slight accent to it. Unlike me, I had a perfect accent in every language I spoke. It just bothered me, for some unknown reason, that I couldn't quite place his accent's origin. "Might I hire her off your hands for myself? Maybe full time; she sounds very useful, or, in your terminology, very reliable." He once again gave me that odd look. I can honestly say I was officially creeped out. Maybe even slightly frightened at his sinister glare. It was a definite first for me, but I couldn't tell why. I could take him out in a second. He was probably slow and out of shape judging by his girth. But he just really got to me..  
  
"Well, I'm sure she'll take you up on your offer Mr. Stryker! You do have enough money to catch her interest, I'm sure. And I doubt any danger will befall me, long as I know my contract with her is still solid. Isn't that right Miss Oyama?"  
  
I turned to him as if silently asking him to repeat himself. After a moment of silence, coming out of my own stupor, I absent-mindedly replied, "Yes, yes, that would be good." I truly had no idea what they were talking about, I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to know or care.  
  
~  
  
From that point on in my memory, things seemed to rush by in a blur of thoughts and unbearable pain. I just remembered wishing that it would end, that soon I would be saved. I never thought I'd ever wish for that, but it was just that horrific. I'm surprised I even survived. But I did. And the worst part was, I agreed to bear it, just to become number one in my field; to become perfect.  
  
Now, I only remember flashes. I heard voices, I saw images tinted in green, tanks brightly lit and scorching-hot metal boiling in a nearby canister. I felt all those needles; oh, the needles! They were so hot as they entered my skin, like attempting to pry your belly button open with readied branding irons all over your body. I recall the word "adamantium" used quite often during the process. Also something about free will came up; something about my skeleton and a successful experiment. I fear I may never understand. There are just some things that cannot be pieced together as fear and pain blind even the medulla from comprehending them.  
  
I remember the aftermath so much more clearly, I felt so heavy, and so sore all over my body. Somehow, I felt like my healing powers had been taken away. I looked and saw I was externally fine, but in my mind, I felt like every injury I'd ever attained was combating in an internal competition to cause me the most anguish. I was so cold too, they had apparently shaved me bald during the surgery. I doubt I was still clothed either; I was freezing! I was for some reason also too weak to move or do anything, but I could hear things and comprehend them. I was in sort of a consciousness version of limbo. What did he do to me that caused me so much pain and to be so defenseless?  
  
Was the transformation a failure then? Was Stryker going to fire me now? Throw me aside like trash after this detestable procedure? I presumed so, as his men dragged me off into a small room draped in some kind of rough, heavy blanket. Then again, everything about me felt heavy at the moment. I could tell the room I was carried into was small by the echoes on the walls of the voices. I heard three. One was ordering another to set me on a cot in the room. Another was screaming and attacking the final one who was.. praying? I heard the praying man get struck by the soldiers, he had a thick German accent. For some reason, despite all these men surrounding me, it didn't bother me in the slightest that I was naked, I just felt that there were other things that needed to be considered and pondered at the moment; ones with higher priorities. Like how I would get out of here. It was bad enough I was Stryker's personal ginea pig- being thrown out without so much as a "goodbye" or an "I'm sorry, it didn't work out." I got so upset, I promised myself I would break out and wrangle his neck if it took me forever. He would pay for doing this to me.  
  
I heard the door close, leaving me and the German alone. He approached my bedside and took my hand gently into his as he took a seat there. Heat radiated from his warm lap to my cold sore one beneath the blanket. He only had three fuzzy fingers, I noticed, but I oddly didn't care. Like I said earlier, I had higher priorities right now. Stroking the back of my hand and gripping it firmly, as if to never let go, he whispered soothing words in German that somehow calmed my ever-growing anger toward Stryker. I'm so glad someone was here for me in my time of need, I'd shooed everyone else important in my life away... I just hoped he knew how much this small kindness meant to me in this time of need.  
  
"Hang in there," he told me, finally speaking in a language I knew, "you've survived the worst of it." Had he been through this process as well? Was he the previous experiment? Was I not alone?  
  
"You'll be all right. I'm here. I'm right here." Suddenly, I felt every bit better.  
  
"Lord, who are these heartless monsters?" So they just kidnapped you, no permission asked? I wish I could explain all of this to you, but I'm afraid I don't know most of it either right now..  
  
"You need to be in a hospital in antiseptic conditions. Not rotting in a cell like this." I'm in that bad of a condition? Well, I guess it's the thought that counts. Thanks anyway, since I know you can't do anything to help.  
  
I was just so surprised he even bothered to pay me any mind whatsoever after seeing me like this: disheveled and bare. It's like, almost as if he.. No, these thoughts had no priority in my mind. I had more important things to ponder. How Stryker could do this to me, and to this kind man beside me.. Innocent victims.. Why? He would undoubtedly pay, and dearly, perhaps with his life..  
  
Suddenly, my hands felt so heavy and tense, like they were being mashed by a mallet and were struggling to free themselves from it's hold. And my head and chest hurt too, however not as much; I don't know why. They were in no direct relation to the areas in the most pain. But the pain in my fingers just got so great in reaction to my rising hatred toward Stryker, that something began to happen to them. I screamed and hollered with the pain as it came, it was so horrendous.  
  
"Oh God! SOMEBODY! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" The German screamed. I heard running stomps from outside the door very soon after.  
  
My arms didn't extend, like my other mutant ability allowed them to, no, something happened to the tips of my fingers. Something had protruded from them, I just know it, causing the German to now call for help. I hope I didn't hurt him...  
  
"God in heaven," he muttered to himself.  
  
Soon enough, by the sound of it, I hadn't been the one hurting him, someone else had, some of Stryker's men had come in and were strangling him. I wanted to help him, so much, in return for his prior kindnesses to me, but I was just too weak and my fingers began to soothe moments later anyway. I sighed in delight at the relief of the pressure and tensions, and I think the German did as well. I no longer heard strangling noises. I smiled slightly.  
  
"Watch out for the claws in her fingers," one man said, obviously referring to me, "Those things are nasty sharp."  
  
Stryker installed CLAWS into my hands?! Metal claws?!?! That wasn't part of our agreement!!! I wanted to be the perfect agent, not a human rake!!  
  
"I thought they were going to remove those damn things." Another said in reply. Yes, yes, removing would be good!  
  
"No, they-I think they put them in." Well, duh. I want them removed though!!  
  
"You're kidding me." God, I wished they were, but something told me this was all real; all too real...  
  
Men began to carry me out of the room, it took four of them but they did, maybe to report my condition to Stryker. And as I left, I heard someone being punched to the floor. I hoped with all my heart it wasn't the kind German. I listened intently for any dialogue I could grasp, despite my distance, and I managed to hear a distant, "Done any praying lately, Creepy Kurt?" It wasn't the German speaking, but those two were certainly the only ones left in the room so..  
  
Kurt. My savior's name is Kurt.  
  
Why did they call him creepy? He was far from it to me, then again, I was never even strong enough to open my eyes and look at him yet. But who needs eyes to realize what a great person someone is? No one, that's who. I began to think to myself, if this was our first and last "meeting," I shall pray for him as he will probably do for me. It's odd how people, even nonreligious people, manage to turn to God when they're at their most desperate. 'Dear Lord, hear my prayer, protect Kurt from Stryker, and from whatever sinister plots he's got against him...'  
  
~  
  
I was at Alkali Lake from what I'd overheard. I also heard that Stryker rather enjoyed the fact that his experiment with me went well. Whatever his sick version of "well" meant. I have to say that if I ever get my energy and strength back, kicking his ass would take immediate and top priority. You know what? I don't even think he deserves that. I'll just turn him in to the feds. Let them deal with scum like him. He's not worth my time.  
  
I did a bit more praying for Kurt, and for my family. During all the time I'd spent here with Stryker and away from everyone, I had a lot of time to think about my family. They were right. With every moment, I just feel closer and closer to death. The pain I feel is of no comparison to the fact that if this condition remains with me, I'll never get a chance to tell anyone how I really feel about anyone or anything. I don't even know if they ever knew in the first place. But still, they were right again in saying that reminders of how much you care were crucial. My life had suddenly become that much more dear to me. I will get out of this alive, no matter the cost, so that I can get a chance to live the right way.  
  
I'm really regretting not making friends now. As I'd heard from a very wise woman once, "It's times like these that you just wish someone was there to give you a big hug and tell you everything's gonna be all right." Now that I've turned my back on my family and had no friends, all I have is Kurt. I really hope I'll see him again. He's my only reassurance and source of recyclable hope now.  
  
I woke up about a day or two later with a serious migraine like you wouldn't believe, lying in the same bed I remembered. Plus I had an itch but I couldn't get at it. I was still so weak, but was adjusting nicely to its laziness. I hope I wasn't gaining weight or getting out of shape while in this condition. Was Stryker even feeding me?? Maybe Stryker's been slipping me food and weakness drugs through some funky daily syringe to the arm.. I noticed that my hair was growing back now. It was quite thick and mussed, but it was there. Rather rapid for hair growth, huh? Maybe that's what Stryker wanted me for: to administer hair tonic.  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
It seemed like a nice mental chuckle at the time though.  
  
"We'll get you out of this, miss, I promise." I heard Kurt whisper to me as he once again sat by me took my limp hand into his. I loved the feel of his hand firmly grasping mine. I began to harvest the hope within me..  
  
Was I dreaming? Did we really have so much luck that we remained roomed together? God I wish I could see..  
  
"I know someone misses you the way Amanda and I miss each other."  
  
Amanda? She must be his.. wife. So he's taken? Not that I wanted him or anything, of course, but hypothetically- isn't it just my luck?  
  
Eh, the good ones are always taken and I know it. It's not exactly news. Maybe that's why I could never even mentally utter the word "love". Because I always knew that in the end my heart would be broken, and I'd lose all enthusiasm in my work. At least I was generally heading in the right direction with that. Now I have to deal with Stryker's agonizing experiment pains and heartbreak.  
  
"That kind of love is the only thing that can keep you alive right now, I know."  
  
He was sort of right, maybe if I model myself to live in my own little fantasy of us being together for the rest of our tortured days, I'll get stronger again.  
  
No, I can't. One must live in the real world. Or, for me, whatever world Stryker is in so that I can kick his ass upon recovery. Or maybe he means, my family. I should love them. More than anyone else..  
  
"Even God has His limits in a place like this--" Kurt was cut off, as the same man that had hurt him previously entered the room. I still wish I could move, I could rip that guy apart any day of the week. I wouldn't mind using him as my first punching bag- use his body as a target to get my now lazy body back into shape.  
  
The intruder began explaining that Kurt's love life was lie and how much his true love really hated him.  
  
And as much as I desired and loved hearing them say Amanda wasn't real and that I had a actually chance with him, I felt so bad for Kurt. Amanda's name had just rolled off his tongue so easily and without thought earlier that it almost seemed as though he'd known her for his entire lifetime. They must've been super-close. It was now that I wished I could grab his hand and comfort him. But not being able to, I prayed. I prayed they were lying to him, I prayed his Amanda did indeed love him, wherever she was, and I prayed for his safety and his eternal happiness- even if his "happiness" didn't include me.  
  
But I stopped as I heard him cry to himself in the corner. What kind of God hurts such a kind and caring man? What kind of God let's such pain befall his creations? Why can't Kurt and I live happy lives? Perhaps continue living our old ones and pretending none of this ever happened? Humans. Humans are doing this to us, making our lives this living hell. It's their fault I'm in so much pain; theirs that my father died and Kurt is alone here; theirs that makes him sob in a corner and me whither away in a cot experiencing indescribable pain.  
  
I could've sworn I began crying too. Feeling was soon coming back to me and I could move ever so slightly. I listened to him cry there for hours; each and every minute of sobs tearing through my heart like a thousand knives. I wish I could return all his small kindnesses, every last one of them. He deserves so much better than this accursed place where he's constantly hurt and disappointed.  
  
God, I wish I could tell him some of these things, any of them!  
  
I wish I could say something.  
  
I wish I had a chance or two more to fix my mistakes..  
  
Yes, I was definitely crying. And I swore to myself I'd never do it again for as long as I lived.  
  
With all my might, I began to flap my lips, making sure that at least they had enough energy to function. Then, I opened them wide, and made the best attempt at a shout that I could.  
  
"K-urrrt," I was able to whimper. I felt his body heat grow near. He had heard me, crawled over, and was listening intently. I knew it was him as I heard a sniffle. "D-onn't cr-yy. You'r-ee t-ooo k-innd f-orr t-earrss."  
  
"If it hurts to, please don't speak-"  
  
"N-ott as m-uchh as hear-inng you cr-yy." He lifted my hand and put it to his mouth to show me he was smiling. I think he knew I couldn't see.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Yur-ikk-oo Oyam-aa. L-ookk m-ee up s-ommet-imm-ee." I replied, smiling best I could. "I'm s-orrr-yy ab-outt Am-annd-aa." Silence. "Wh-err-eeev-err sh-ee is, I'm s-urr-ee sh-ee l-ovv-ess you and m-isss-ess you v-err-yy m-uchh. J-usst l-ikk-ee I w-illl wh-enn you or I l-eavv-ee." My mouth felt a bit better, I was breaking in, uhh, whatever Stryker gave me, quickly. Taking a gulp, I felt a great weight begin to lift itself from my throat, seeming and hoping it to give me the ability of temporarily-improved speech. "You've done so much for me Kurt; you've helped me through this hell and I just really want to thank you and let you know that no matter what anyone else says, you are a good person. Don't let anyone tell you any different. Not even that ass Norris or Stryker." He laughed slightly. I didn't know how I knew Norris's name, but I just knew that Norris was Kurt's recurring offender. Maybe I'd heard it and subconsciously remembered it. "I pray for your safety every day now Kurt. Remember that whenever you feel alone, I still care about you, okay?" He put my hand to his face once more and I felt his wet face bob up and down. "Thank you so much.."  
  
"Thank you as well, Miss Oyama. I shall pray for you more also."  
  
I then slipped into darkness.  
  
From there, I only remember waking up and looking exactly as I did before I fell into this whole mess. And I mean exactly. I began to follow Stryker around and lose complete control over all my actions. I also began to wonder, using the little bit of my brain left that I had control over: Was Kurt just a figment of my imagination inspired by God? A message from him telling me to have more faith? To stop taking so many things for granted? Telling me to hang in there, as I'll soon be freed? If it was, he was wrong. I was never freed. But figment or not, I never forgot Kurt and what he helped teach me. If I'd ever gotten the chance, I'd have told all of my family I loved them, made friends and loosened up, and of course, tracked down Kurt, and thanked him properly. Maybe even befriended him. Giving him that little speech with clothes on and under different circumstances would've been so much more appropriate. But most of all, I'd have quit my job as an agent and done things I enjoyed doing, living my life to the fullest, with my family and all of my closest friends.  
  
~~~ 


End file.
